Holiday Perineum
by Elyzara
Summary: After an unexpected turn of events on Christmas Day, Demyx finds himself lost in despair during the holiday season, or more specifically, the awkward time between Christmas and New Years. Will his luck turn around when he meets a handsome clerk at a rental store? AU Zemyx. Mentions of Xigdem. Omniscient point of view. Rated T for swearing, smoking, and a little bit of violence.
1. 25th

**Hello! Author's note: I will be updating this story everyday (hopefully) until New Years. Every chapter will follow Demyx and his meetings with, of course, Zexion. I hope you enjoy! :) Reviews would be amazing!**

**I don't know if people still do this, but no, I do not own KH.**

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><p>25th<p>

"_…mmm?_"

The blonde laid in his bed, gliding his hands around under the covers for the one beside him. Per their morning ritual, Demyx would scooch his way over to his partner and cuddle closely until their alarm clock rang, which sadly signaled the time for them to release each other and get ready for the day ahead of them. However, much to his surprise, no one was there. His hand swept through the smooth sheets until it finally went over the edge on the other side, earning a well-deserved scowl from the musician.

Demyx slowly sat upward, rubbing his eyes to send away the grogginess. He then glared at the empty half to his right. Where was he? He was certainly not an early riser, quite the opposite in fact. Maybe he had to get to work early… or maybe he didn't sleep well last night… or mayb—

Wait.  
>What day was today again?<p>

Demyx scrambled for his phone, flailing his limbs this way and that to check the date. He finally spotted the device on the floor beside the bed, and practically dove for it head-on. Laying on the floor, though with his legs still tangled in the bed sheets above him, he unlocked his phone. He squinted at the bright screen before him, but read the date clear as day.

December 25th.  
>Christmas.<p>

A grin snaked its way onto the blonde's face, as he stared at the blaring screen. Elated, he made a break for his closet, though only to grab a special something. He exited the bedroom and skipped down the stairs, still dawning his striped navy pajama bottoms, and no shirt. Checking slyly around every corner before he went around it, he tip-toed his way towards the elegant Christmas tree that lit up the whole living room. The dirty blonde snickered to himself as he slid his present to his lover under the tree, though when he realized it was all alone, he furrowed his brows in dismay. The other half of the couple would have put his present underneath it already, no doubt about it. He always did, for the three years they've spent this holiday together. The blonde rose slowly, eying his surroundings.

"Xigbar?"

He quickly made his way through the house, looking every which way. In the bathroom, in the kitchen, in the garage, and even in the bedroom again.

"_Xigbar_! Hey Xiggy, where are you?"

He yelled out his partner's name, only for it to be lost in space. He wasn't there. The previous scowl graced Demyx's features once again.

He shook his head. Knowing him, he just forgot to buy a present, and went out shopping this morning to make up for it. Seriously though, he could've at least sent a text…

However, ultimately pleased with his newfound explanation, Demyx smiled to himself as he strolled to the kitchen a second time. He grabbed the refrigerator handle and tugged it open, selecting a variety of ingredients for an extravagant breakfast. Eggs, pancakes, muffins, bacon, sausage, fruit, toast… His mouth was watering just thinking about it. And though Xigbar was the more… "gifted" cook of the two, he would certainly try his best.

As he crossed the off-white tiled floor to the island in the middle of the kitchen, he began lightly humming to himself, as he usually does. Though this time, it was a selection of Christmas tunes. Demyx just couldn't seem to get them unstuck from his head, though he didn't really mind. He really did love this time of year, filled with love and happiness. The joy of just being united for once in this cruel society. It was unmistakably his favorite holiday. All he ever wanted was to spend it in someone's arms, and thankfully, Xigbar was going to fulfill this wish to him yet again. So thankful he was, that his skin started crawling with goosebumps in anticipation for his one-and-only to open his Christmas present. Although a bit cliche this time of year, Demyx couldn't wait any longer to take that signature "next step".

Snapping out of his daydream of their lives together, he approached the island, and the musician opened a drawer to gather some utensils that he'd need. Hands full of spatulas and more, he abruptly stopped humming mid-Winter Wonderland when he spotted a slightly wrinkled, folded piece of paper on the counter of the island. His eyebrows hitched, confused as to why there was trash lying around, because he had just cleaned this kitchen yesterday (which was very much-needed). He emptied his hands, dropping everything on the granite counter, and reached for the paper. His slim fingers opened it meticulously as he crossed over to the trash can, fully expecting it to be a receipt of some sort, nothing particularly important. Just at the mouth of the trash can, he read the words, "Dear Dem," up at the top.

His eyes did a double take. Why, is was a note from Xiggy! Probably explaining where he his or when he'll be back. Demyx smiled to himself, knowing Xigbar wasn't that irresponsible to just take off on Christmas Day! The blonde quickly opened the rest of the letter, eagerly reading the remaining message.

"Dear Dem,  
>You'll hate me for this, man, but I just couldn't do it to your face… and to those goddamn puppy dog eyes. Cause too much guilt, know what I mean? But I know this is what I want, too bad it doesn't work out for you, Mullethawk.<br>Listen, I'll cut to the chase, I'm never coming back. I'll be straight forward, I met someone else. A girl. A smokin' hot, wild kind of a girl. The kind of fun I'll never get with you. Sorry, water boy, but it's over.  
>Merry Christmas, Xig."<p>

…

Demyx's eyes read through his lover's last words over and over what seemed like a hundred times, but there was no way this was right. He surely must need glasses, or something of the sort… Was he hallucinating?

No, no…

There was no way. There was no way, there was no way, _no way, no way_.

Xig was… _gone_. For good.

He read the whole thing over yet again, flinching at his precious nicknames used in such a disgraceful way, and finally tears started flowing from the man's eyes.

His grip tightened on the now-dreadful note, wrinkling it even more.

He didn't care. He gritted his teeth, and his tears of sadness turned to tears of anger.

Demyx, with his whole body vibrating with hatred, lost it. His hands lost control, ripping the dreaded note to shreds until the pieces were too small to tear anymore. His lungs lost control, wheezing and coughing through his messy sobs. His mind lost control, replaying all the memories of the past Christmases, and how they did not end up as a disaster like this one. His knees lost control, making him collapse to the hard, kitchen floor in agony.

Everything about him lost control.

He stayed a muddled heap on the ground for an eternity, weeping his sorrows away. It came straight out of left field; Demyx did not suspect a thing. Not at all.

Suddenly, a spark flicked in his mind, and he turned his head away from the floor, looking over out of the kitchen and into the living room, not that far away. The tree, that they decorated together, and underneath it, the present. The ring. He didn't suspect this happening so much, he was proposing today. To that piece-of-shit boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend, now. His fingers folded into fists, seeping into anger once again. Why. Why did this happen? _Why?_

He let out a terrifying scream, letting his frustration out in a roar. But it wasn't enough.

He eyed the present once again, and hastily crawled towards it, knocking anything in his way aside. At the tree, the prowling man latched his claws on to the small box, and ripped the purple wrapping to shreds. He opened it, and there sat the customized one thousand dollar, 14 karat white-gold engagement band. His shaky hand grabbed it, and his expression twisted into that of disdain, for it was absolutely disgusting in his eyes now. He let out another growl, and gripped it tighter. Violently, he pounded it against the ground, though now he was sitting upon carpet, so it didn't exactly do much. But he didn't care.

After adamant pounding, he yelled once more as he threw the engagement ring into the fireplace across the room. The low "clinks" as it hit the side of the brick walls of the fireplace echoed in through the house, sending Demyx out of his childish tantrum and into a state of silence.

How he wished the fireplace was actually lit, and the ring would just burn up, and he could just forget about all of this. He could just forget about Xigbar entirely. But alas, this idea was but a fantasy, and as his broken heart pained him with every beat, he knew he wouldn't be forgetting this for quite a while.

He slowly and painfully rose from the ground. Now that he could see at least semi-clearly… What was he supposed to do now? He was literally just dumped on Christmas morning. His better half of his brain decided he should probably talk to someone, a friend or family member, but the other half said screw it, just sulk in bed.  
>Unfortunately, he listened to the latter.<p>

He made his way back up the stairs, stepping over the scattered lamps, decor, and even a night table that was tipped over in his maddened wake earlier. He emerged into the bedroom, and surveyed the area. Plenty of Xigbar's clothes were still in the closet and scattered messily on the floor. His DVD collection still in place next to the desk across the room. His posters still mounted over their king sized bed. Even his pack of smokes, still sitting on his bedside table. His presence still imminent, as though Xigbar could just emerge from the adjoining bathroom any moment now to tell his boyfriend that this was simply all an elaborate prank.

But no one came.

Demyx kicked Xig's clothes aside, and though not in a better mood, he smirked to himself. If he ever came back and wanted his junk back, good fucking luck. He's not getting _shit_.

He treaded over to the bed, and flopped down to where he was but an hour ago. He wasn't tired, so his sub conscience decided to plague him, as if his day wasn't bad enough already. He recited the note to himself from memory, the words seared into his brain.

"Merry Christmas, Xig."

How fucking dare he. Merry Christmas? You've got to be _joking_. You just broke up with someone you've been with for three and a half years on Christmas Day of all days, through a sloppy note, and you have the nerve to salutate your letter with _Merry Christmas_?  
>Fuck you.<p>

"I met someone else. A girl."

The blonde smacked his head in stupidity. Only then did it hit him. He knew exactly who it was. It made sense now, how Xigbar went to the local bar every single night now, despite not having a great taste for alcohol. But the hopeless romantic refused to believe it. So naive, he was. He saw the looks, the lust, but turned away instead of investigating further. Investigating between his man and that… _bitch bartender Larxene_. Goddamn…

He couldn't imagine how many times Xigbar and that girl fucked in the back room, then he came home and did the same to Demyx. He couldn't imagine how many times that bastard cheated on him these past three years, let alone these past few days.

He beat himself up over it. Not because he felt it was his fault; no, no, it was all that bastard's fault… But, he felt he should've caught on sooner. Broke up with him before this mess happened. Before he wasted so many weeks worth of paychecks on a goddamn _ring_.

As he contemplated about the what-ifs and the what-nows, he closed his eyes in meditation. Though eventually, through all odds, he fell into a deep sleep, though more from his depressed state than anything else. Many calls buzzed his phone that day, no doubt to wish him a nice holiday, but they were all ignored due to his slumber. Christmas day, gone, for no celebrating was done by this water boy this time.


	2. 26th

"Fuck…"

The blonde slowly separated his eyelids, now staring at the bleak ceiling. He then stiffly rolled over to check the clock beside him. He didn't even mean to fall asleep. Though, he couldn't have been out that long. He squinted to make something of the bright figures on his alarm clock.

3:07 am.

"Are you fucking kidding me…"

He let out a large groan from the back of his throat. He stretched himself out, earning a few cracks and pops from various points in his body.

"Did I really sleep _all_ throughout yesterday…?"

He sat upwards, scratching his neck as he did so. He peered around the room. Everything was the same. He didn't know what he expected, but he wished anything even slightly having to do with that asshole would've just… disappeared while he was asleep. Unfortunately, reality always won these battles.

Suddenly, something vibrated his pelvis. He stared in bewilderment at his crotch, until he realized his phone was still in his front pocket. He fished is out, and turned on the screen. It was a reminder that he missed a call… er, well, sixteen calls. He was amazed that nothing had woke him up throughout the entire day, though it wasn't exactly farfetched. He isn't exactly a… light sleeper.

Getting back to business, he checked his missed call list. Five from his mother, one from his dad, four from other family members, and the rest from various friends. He scoffed at his mother. Such a worry-wart, as he always called her. He wished he could talk to her right about now, but 3 in the morning isn't really a great time to call people for idle chit-chat… And besides, even if he did mention his predicament, he knew he'd just get a huge "I told you so" thrown right back in his face. Demyx's mother always, and I mean always, reminded her son just how much she didn't trust Xigbar. Reminded him how much of a bad influence he was. All that and more. In the end, she was right. Go figure.

Then the musician remembered about the smokes. He turned around, as his back was currently facing them. He reached over and grabbed the box.

His mom really was right. When they started hanging out so long ago, Xigbar had persuaded him to take up smoking. It's amazing, how naive he was and how keen he was on impressing the older man. Eventually he miraculously quit the habit, about two years after, when he started to notice the health problems forming. He's never gone back.

Demyx turned the box around in his hands and spotted the small print towards the bottom of it.

Warning: Smoking can kill you.

The blonde stared at the pack for quite a while. Eventually, he flipped the top over as he murmured to himself out loud.

"Well, that's exactly what I need."

He peered inside and saw that it was a brand new box— only one cigarette missing. He thought that Xigbar was crazy to not take this with him, because he did smoke a pack a day at this point.

"Heh, must be destiny then."

He scoffed at his own statement. _Destiny_? Yeah right. Though, he couldn't help but wonder as his diligent fingers pulled a fresh cigarette out of the box, pretty efficiently too, almost as if it was second nature. He spun it around in his hand a few times, and his sea-green eyes narrowed in on it. He had barely quit the first time, not many are lucky enough to quit the habit a second time through.

But then again, who says he'll need to?

He lifted himself up from the mess of a bed for the first time this morning, and he made his way to the desk inside the bedroom. He scanned the surface, rifling through miscellaneous papers and garbage. It wasn't until he made his way down to one of the small drawers that he found a lighter.

_Click. Click. Click._

He raised the fire up to the end of his cigarette, already posing nicely on his lips. He made sure to take it easy, as he hasn't exactly had any practice of breathing in tobacco for quite a while now. However, it came smoothly. Xigbar always had a fine taste in expensive cigarettes. No coughing, all pleasure.

He tossed the lighter back on the desk, which was greeted with a loud "clunk". It surely left a dent, but the soulless Demyx couldn't care less now. Instead, he carefully assembled an outfit to wear from his closet, wary not to accidentally burn his clothing from his smoke. He threw them on, and grabbed the necessities to stuff in his pockets: wallet, cell phone, gum, and of course, the pack of cigs with the lighter. No use in idling around here all day. He figured he'd go out into town, grab a bite to eat and improvise from there. Another puff left his quivering lips as he made his way to the door, when he spotted a rental DVD on his nightstand. Fuck, it was long overdo for return… It was actually Xigbar who rented it, but the order was under Demyx's name, so he was the one in the heat of trouble. He snatched the movie up with a scowl, shoved it in his inside coat pocket, and exited the room.

The blonde bounded down the stairs and unconsciously reached for the perch where the car keys would normally sit. When his fingers were met with empty space, Demyx moaned as he realized the Xigbar was the owner of the car, and thus had taken it with him. The newly disappointed man gazed out the window; the sides of the streets were much too ridden with snow to ride his bike. Met with the only possibility left, he cursed under his breath as he emerged from his abode empty-handed, as his only choice was to walk now.

The musician's combat boots crunched the hardened snow beneath them, as the man tramped through his yard and onto the sidewalk. Car horns were competing with the howling wind in the distance. Demyx hunched up into his winter coat, feeling the tingling sensation of freezing cold hit his face as he dragged his body down the street. His cigarette was long forgotten and abandoned, too cold to bring out his hands from the cozy coat pockets. Whether this was a grand idea or not, Demyx was in no mood for cooking, so he set out for the nearest open restaurant. If only it wasn't half an hour away.

* * *

><p>"That was a fuckin' waste." The blonde glared at the front desk attendant before leaving the joint. It was a hole-in-the-wall, burger &amp; sandwich place. Supposedly not bad from what he's heard from others, but what he faced was certainly worse than "bad". The burger patty he got was practically breathing still, it was so raw, and the blue cheese wasn't even melted. The baked potato had a disgusting brown spot on the bottom, rotting within itself. They actually had the nerve to serve him that poor excuse of a meal.<p>

After properly complaining to the staff, he left his shitty meal behind him and entered the equally-shitty weather outside. It had begun to snow, and little flakes landed on the man as he rounded the corner to find a bus stop. Tired of the cold, he waited for transportation, and used his leftover change from the restaurant to pay for the ride. The bus was considerably warmer inside, even though there was no heater in action. One look would tell you, however, it was due to the mass amount of people's body heat. The bus was loaded with people, all unitedly adorning grimaces upon their faces. It was a metropolitan area, after all.

Five stops later, the blonde was relieved to finally get off that wretched hell on wheels. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't particularly mind, but with the recent events, he can't stand being surrounded with these loud and repulsive people. As soon as he jumped off those bus steps, he reached for the box within his jeans. Tugging out a smoke, he flicked the lighter open, eagerly awaiting bliss.

_Click. Click. Click._

He breathed deeply, letting the tobacco surge through his lungs. Swirls of smoke danced around him when he exhaled his breath. He slid the silver flame-maker back into his back pocket, and began walking down the sidewalk towards a shopping center. By now, it was nearly noon.

It wasn't a very big market place, and it was especially deserted today due to being outdoors— not enclosed. Due to that, it was Xigbar's and his favorite place to shop, uncrowded and lower priced. There, on the corner of the center, sat the movie rental place. It looked abandoned, and it basically was. They still had enough income to battle against going under, though, miraculously enough.

As he approached, he gazed through the large, glassed walls. No one in there but employees, and few of those to boot. Demyx grasped the door handle with his unoccupied hand, and entered the building.

He took a puff, and eyed the store. One man, about his age, behind the counter, glaring back at him. The other staff must've gone into the back, because the rest of the store was vacated. Demyx shuffled over to the counter, and was in the middle of retrieving his DVD from within his clothes when a voice rang out, "Excuse me sir, but smoking is prohibited in this establishment. Please throw it away, or exit the building."

Demyx froze in his movements. He rose his eyes away from his pockets to meet them with the other man's.

"…Excuse me? I just have a DVD to return, and I literally just lit this." The blonde tried to reason with the employee, but could tell his argument was in vain, by the deadpan expression the other was giving him.

"I'm sorry, but you have to leave until you've finished."

The musician scowled as he inspected the guy. Shorter than him, with royal blue eyes and slate-colored hair. Average build with a blank face. Boring attire clothing a straight and stiff posture. Does this guy even have any emotions? And just who does he think he is, anyway? Sure, he's just doing his job, but try to be a little fucking personable. No need to get so fucking offended over a small cig.

"Listen dude, just take this DVD and I'll get outta your hair." His voice began to waver, as he heated up with irritation. He practically slammed the movie on the counter, being controlled by his feelings.

"Please. Leave." The employee demanded, already tired of Demyx's tirade.

Demyx turns with a scoff, letting one last puff leave his mouth before clutching the door handle. Just as he was about to push the door open, he hesitated, and spat out a vulgar, "fuck you" to the man. The blonde left, vowing to never go back there. They must have pretty low standards for their employment process to hire that bastard.

He made his way back to the bus, and decided it was time to return home. The weather was nipping him in the ass, and frankly, he'd had enough bad experiences for the day already. What are the odds, two bastards in two days. Demyx's luck wasn't all that astounding.

Upon arriving home, he cranked up the heater and slouched on the couch in the living room. It was still a mess from yesterday's episode. Still, he had no motivation to tidy up.

The blonde continued to lazy around all day, and crashed in his bed around nine o' clock, not interested in staying awake any longer. Only, it's as if his mind was on repeat from what happened yesterday. He was plagued with horrid thoughts and flashbacks of that jerk. It hindered his want for sleep, and he let out an exasperated sigh. Tugging the white sheets over his head, he began to feel strange. His gut began to turn.

Why couldn't he stop thinking about him? What's so special about _him_?

Why is the employee haunting his mind, instead of Xigbar?

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><p><strong>This one of the shortest chapters... Just wait until tomorrow though!<strong>

**Hope you have liked it so far.**


	3. 27th

Though it was still a chilly Saturday morning, the sun came out a tad more than the previous days. As the curtains flicked back and forth on his open bedroom window, the rays of light seeped through into the otherwise motionless room. A lump still lied numb in the king-sized bed, with but a tuft of disheveled, dirty blonde hair sticking out from underneath the sheets. With no alarm clock to awaken the slumbering man, he remain buried within the blankets well until ten o' clock. It was only until then the blonde fluttered his eyelids open, only to be greeted with a horrible pain in his body, where his heart should be. Slowly rising from the stack of pillows he had handy, he let out a series of grunts, both from tiredness and from his aching. Gazing down, he once again failed to see another body lying there with him.

If only.  
>If only it hadn't turned out like this.<p>

The musician flung his feet out of bed, and staggered his way towards his desk. He tossed his coat (thrown there the previous night) around, until the blessed box he was looking for fell into the open. Just as he was about to pull out a fresh smoke, a flashing alert caught his attention instead. It's origin, his cellphone that fell out with the pack, was telling him that he had missed two texts and three phone calls, all from his best pal.

Demyx tossed the smokes aside, and unlocked his phone to catch up on the conversation.

**"December 26, 2014, 9:34 pm**  
><strong>Hey im here."<strong>

He scrolled to the next message.

**"December 26, 2014, 9:39 pm**  
><strong>Hey so I texted and called but no answer. ill just leave the keys under the front mat. sorry bout what happened, but i told ya he was fuckin trouble. commit it to memory next time man."<strong>

Demyx smacked his forehead, amazed at how he could forget that he asked his buddy Axel to bring over his spare car. He was just so out of it recently, he had gone to sleep before the redhead had arrived. The guitarist made a mental note to apologize to his friend later, for going through the trouble of bringing it over and not even being let inside.

Demyx threw on a half-assed outfit, and traversed down to his kitchen for a quick meal. As he slid onto the tiled floor, he realized he had never tidied up after his rampage the other day. Utensils and measuring equipment still lined the granite counter tops. Memories tried to surge up, especially after spotting the torn paper pieces sprinkled on the ground; but he repressed them, determined not to start the day off already feeling terrible.

Instead, he attempted to recreate the happy-go-lucky festive mood he had that day, before… well, before shit hit the fan. Demyx began humming Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree, and hopped over to the freezer, where he tugged at the handle. The frosty air nipped at his nose for only a second, as he quickly selected a frozen TV dinner, and shut the door hastily. Sure, it wasn't exactly _breakfast material_, but he couldn't care less at this point. It was sustenance, which is all he needed. After chucking the plastic tray into the microwave, he spun around 180° to the silverware drawer, and picked a fork and knife to accompany his extravagant meal. He tossed them onto the table, about four paces away.

Just as he began wildly rocking out to his saxophone solo from the song sounding in his head, the socks he was wearing caused him to slip and cascade down to the hard floor. A flash of pain struck his lower back, and he howled in agony as he reached for the suffering spot. Blasted tile, ruining the streak he had. His streak of being somewhat happy, for a change. When his sight aligned with the ripped note lingering on the floor, regret flooded his mind. How dumb he was to think he could be blissfully ignorant. There was no way he'd be "back to normal" anytime soon, or at all for that matter. Fucking idiot, that's what he was, a_ fuc—_

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

His train of thought was interrupted when the microwave cried out for him. Reminded of his meal, he set aside his self-loathing for another time, and he messily— and painfully— rose from the kitchen floor. The blonde crossed over to the source of the beeping, which had a message scrolling by saying, "ENJOY YOUR MEAL."

Enjoy your meal?  
>Yeah right.<p>

He scoffed at the nerve of the microwave, the nerve of it telling him what to do. Fuck off. After a sufficient flipping of the bird towards the microwave, he sat at the table and devoured his poor excuse of a breakfast. Chicken Parmesan with a bed of broccoli on the side. While it was one of the best TV dinners he's ingested, it was still, frankly, a crappy TV dinner.

* * *

><p>After finishing tying the laces on his second shoe, Demyx straightened up and smoothed out his warm clothes that covered his slim body. He made way for the front door, not at all hesitating, unlike yesterday. He slammed the door behind him, reached under the door mat, and grasped the promised car keys. Few keys jingled along the ring, for this was a hardly used, spare car. There was a reason for such, too. The blonde trudged through the six-inch snow to the brown, rusted vehicle now parked in his driveway. He figured he'd make his way to his part time job that was down into the city; perhaps try and get a few hours in for some extra cash. He didn't have any work for the whole week, out of politeness for the holiday season. However, it couldn't hurt him to get a few more bucks on hand. After all, he did spend most of his savings on that atrocious ring. That goddamn atrocious ring…<p>

He pressed one of the buttons on the key chain, and the car unlocked with a quick sound of its horn. Demyx pulled the door open, only for it to become stuck at the hinges.

Of course, it was fucking frozen shut.

After holding a hair dryer— plugged into an outlet on his porch— for an adamant amount of time, he tugged the door once again. This time, as the momentum of becoming unstuck carried it outward, the car smacked Demyx in the area no man should be forced to experience. He let out a squeal, followed by a "thud", as the man collapsed to the frosty driveway.

_Oh how this day was turning out already._

* * *

><p>Finally able to get his act together, Demyx was now driving across town, transmission coughing up a storm all along the way.<p>

Wind shield wipers? Broken. Acceleration/brakes? Unresponsive. Radio? Stuck on one station only. And of course, it was over-the-top, happy-go-lucky, _holiday music._

This thing should be illegal.

Still, it was better than having nothing to drive, and be forced to take the god awful public transportation. He's had no other choice, otherwise. What do you expect though… the part-time employed, wannabe musician was in the thick of college, debts galore. Everything about this situation was a recipe for disaster. The least he could do was just survive day by day, hour by hour.

In the middle of his self-pity episode, the blonde found himself approaching the area he had just been the day before, a familiar shopping center growing larger in the distance. His place of work wasn't far past this place, after all. So, despite all better judgment, he glanced at the infamous rental shop, knowing full well it'll probably just bring up unpleasant memories.

The blonde gradually halted as he neared an intersection with a stop light, coincidentally directly in line with the movie rental shop. The distance was close enough in which the driver could see past the glare and inside the windows. Surprisingly enough, it seemed as though they had a customer; a giant man in a dark grey hoodie rounded the corner and briskly entered the store, almost as if he has a mission.

Demyx turned back to look at the road. Still red. Time sure does crawl slowly around this part of the year.

The man began to yawn, stretching his mouth as he let out a groan. Mid-exhale, he pivoted his vision back in the direction of the store. Same clerk at the counter, and the guy in the hoodie holding up his arms straight out in front of him… holding a… a…

Demyx choked, caught mid-yawn when he couldn't believe his eyes. A hand clasped his mouth, shaking widely. That man was pointing a fucking _gun_. Demyx, stunned, was praying silently to himself:

"Please, God, no…"

Suddenly, a spark went off in his brain; he jolted his other hand to his pocket, grasping his phone out. He hit the home button.

_…He hit the home button…_

Unresponsive.

Forgot to motherfucking charge it last night. God _dammit_.

So instead, he chose the unwise decision. His vision switched between the store and the stop lights, pleading and begging for it to turn. The red circle burned into his sight. Time was at a standstill.

Cursing under his breath, his foot slammed into the petal, ignoring the damned light above him. No one was currently inside the intersection, but horns blared at him from all directions. He didn't care. He would gladly accept a fine, if it meant saving a life in return. So, he made an illegal u-turn, and barreled his way down the street before making a right into the shopping center.

He raced against time, coming to a screeching halt as close as he could to the store. Heart thumping, muscles clamping. He threw his car door open, and sprinted towards the front doors, a seemingly never-ending sprint towards life-or-death. Demyx watched the scene unfold before him, as he kept his eyes tailored onto the confrontation through the windows. Then, the unthinkable happened.

The slate-haired clerk went from his hands up, to mounting over the counter in a matter of seconds. Demyx's movement stopped and breathing hitched, caught in his throat as he waited for the unforgettable sound to blast through the air, no doubt about to happen after the worker's actions. Fists clenched together, hanging defeatedly by his sides. Teeth gridded, angered as to why everything has gone so fucking wrong, so fucking quickly.  
>Only, the bullet never rang. The booming shot never penetrated the chilly air.<p>

Demyx, snapping his attention back at the struggle, saw the clerk attempting to overpower the robber. The gun, gone, presumably fallen on the floor. The man still alive, but still fighting.

Demyx, reinvigorated with hope, sprung from his spot, now only a few feet away from the entrance. He crashed through the doors, just as a flash of red flew through the air. A wet splatter of blood sprayed the wall, and a heavy "thump" echoed throughout the building. A flash of slate blue fell to the carpet below.

_Blood. Slate blue. Burglar._ All of these surged through Demyx's mind at once. When he put them together to form a cohesive idea on what just happened, he let out a roar of rage.

The blonde pounced at the figure, a tan-skinned man with piercing orange eyes. Unable to respond quickly enough to combat the enraged musician, he crashed to the ground, blonde on top of him. They fumbled, and the aggressor shoved Demyx aside. Regaining his feet, the thief tried to flee, but the blonde tripped him by sticking out his leg in the other's path. The figure came crashing down once again. Pinning the man's arms down expertly with his knees, Demyx unloaded on him, throwing punches down at the man, sufficiently knocking him out completely cold.

The moments after only entailed deafening silence. That is, except for the rough pants that left Demyx's mouth. He did nothing but stared at the burglar, a despicable being who would dare harm another for a petty amount of cash…

Then, his brain sparked. His eyes widened and snapped in the direction of the worker, still lying on the floor not far away. Demyx scrambled off of the unconscious brawler and rushed to the shorter man's side.

It was a picturesque moment. The hero, crouching over the princess's lifeless body, after narrowly avenging her death by defeating the villain once and for all. The hero, denying that his love could be broken, shakes the maiden in a vain attempt to wake her from the never-ending slumber of death. The hero, tears streaming down his pale face, leans down to deliver one last true love's kiss…

Suddenly, the employee twitches awake, and jolts upwards, surprised at the setting in front of him. His nose, bloody from an elbow to the face, stung like hell. Demyx, relieved but newly nervous at the worker's consciousness, scooted backwards to give the wounded some extra space. Letting the man catch his breath for a moment, Demyx then rose from the ground, and stretched his hand out towards the guy in a welcoming manner. Hesitant at first, the employee grasped his savior's offered hand, and was hoisted up to his feet. Unbalanced at first, but overall okay considering what _could_ have happened.

"…Thank you. For helping, I mean." The employee squeezed Demyx's hand, sending a message that reinforced his gratefulness.

Demyx shifted his eyes away, feeling the slightest bit awkward in this situation. He soon let go of the other's hand, and brought it up to scratch the back of his neck in nervousness.

"Yeah well… you're welcome. Just… call 911 right away, then we'll talk." Demyx pivoted around, and gestured towards the phone behind the counter.

* * *

><p>"I'm not an idiot. Anyone with the slightest bit of intelligence could tell at a single glance that what he was holding was a fake gun. Most likely wasn't even functional enough to squirt water at its victims."<p>

The store and it's surroundings was now bustling with activity, packed to the brim with police, investigators, reporters, photographers, and curious passer-bys. The clicking of cameras and the feedback buzz of walkie-talkies filled the air around them. The two of them were sitting side-by-side on a nearby bench, shock blankets draped over their shoulders. They were facing the street, gazing out at the hustle and bustle of the traveling families.

"Huh… I wouldn't of noticed. He would've robbed me dry." Demyx let out a small chuckle, slightly embarrassed at his mistake. A hand rose to cover his mouth, but the sweet giggle seeped through and filled the gloomy area. The Demyx from before, the joyous one, was exuded for just a split second.

But boy, was it a sight to see. The worker, at his side, watched him intently. Eyes narrowing and smile forming as he took in the presence next to him. Yesterday's events escaped him, all that mattered was right now.

The musician, now aware if the other's watchful eye, turned towards the man with an inquisitive expression. Taken back by the confrontation, the employee begins to stutter out an introduction.

"I— I suppose it's only right to introduce ourselves… My name is Zexion." He pointed towards himself, then gestured towards the blonde as if to say "And you?"

"Demyx. Name's Demyx." He stuck out his hand in a welcoming handshake. It wasn't something he'd normally do, but it seemed like Zexion was the type of guy who'd appreciate it. Their hands met, and a firm handshake ensued. The corners of Demyx's mouth curled into a slight grin, accompanied with a nod from the other man. Maybe this guy wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

><p>They sat in a meager cafe, nearby. After the police and company finished up and left, the duo was free to go. Still wanting to express his thankfulness, Zexion invited his savior to coffee, on him. They locked up the store, and left.<p>

They talked. And talked. Discovered mutual interests and acquaintances. They even went to the same college: Radiant U.

"...Small world." Zexion attempted to stiffen his quiet laughter even more by hovering his hand over his mouth. It didn't work, as Demyx could still hear it's sweet tone as clear as day. The musician leaned in, propping his head up by his arm on the table. Zexion may seem... bleak, from the outside. From the inside, however, he was fascinating— everything he jabbered on about was actually very interesting. You just had to get to know him.

Fingers tapped in a line on the table. Zexion's eyes shifted this way and that around the coffeehouse, before finally closing them and inhaling a deep breath.

"Listen... I can't help but feel as though this is not enough to show my utmost gratitude. I am having... a get-together if you will, at my apartment for New Year's. Or rather, my roommate is hosting, Luxord. However, due to the fact that we have so many alike friends..." He trailed off. He peered at Demyx with an expectant gaze.

A growing hole began to creep it's way into the blonde's chest. This guy is inviting him to his party. While he seems nice and all...

He couldn't. Not now. Not again.

Memories of Xigbar swarmed his brain. He couldn't go down that path. New friends right now are simply not possible, he'd go absolutely crazy.

His body began rejecting the situation. His stomach dropped, sweat began to trickle, and muscles began to contract. The mug of sweetened coffee rattled slightly in his hand, for a brief moment, before Demyx regained his composure.

"...and you'd like me to come." He closed his eyes, and let out a deep breath. "Look, I'm flattered and all... but I can't go. Sorry." He squirmed in his seat, and as he did so, he felt the object in his pocket. That's right, the smokes! A stress reliever in any situation.

Zexion returned Demyx's rejection with furrowed eyebrows, obviously upset with the other's answer.

"Well, that's really unfortunate..."

Demyx's hands reached for his pocket.

"...Perhaps another time?"

Fingers meticulously pull the box and lighter out slowly.

"I'd really like to thank..."

Zexion's eyes look at the blonde with confusion.

"...you... ehmm..."

Demyx puts a cigarette between his lips.

_Click. Click. Click._

An inhale, and an exhale. Smoke effortlessly glides through the air around them. Euphoria at last.

"That's fucking disgusting."

Demyx chokes, caught mid-inhale by the other's sudden... bluntness. He focuses on the clerk as he hastily rises from the table, and starts gathering his belongings. His expression was clearly angered, which only got Demyx fired up in return.

"Well _excuse me_! Get off your fucking high horse, dude. It's just a little cig, it ain't gonna hurt ya!"

Zexion halts in the middle of sliding his arm into his coat sleeve, to bark out towards the other.

"You have no idea, do you? Completely ignorant? It may not hurt _me_, but it's certainly going to hurt _you_. This meeting was going _so_ well, too!"

He finished putting on his coat, then stared at his mess of things strewn about the table. Demyx let out a devilish chuckle, and rose from his seat.

"Whatever. I'll save ya the trouble. _I'm_ leaving instead." The smoker clutched his one item— his coat— and marched out the front door to the cafe, without even pulling it on.

Zexion, left standing there, lingered his gaze where the man was just before. Disappointment, hatred, and... regret, all filled his hollow heart at once.


	4. 28th

The blonde shifted, disturbed as he was being lifted out of his sleeping state. Awaking with a snort, his head jolted upwards, dazed at his surroundings. His throat was parched, his body numb, his vision blurry… just how long was he out?

He turn his head to his clock. It was well into the afternoon.

He moaned, and flopped his head back down to his pillows, sufficiently burying it. No matter how early nor late, he never wanted to get out of bed. Even more so now that usual.

Still, against his will, he lifted up his forearms that were beneath him, and hoisted himself up and out of bed. He stretched, and grunted, and all of that jazz; until he was limber enough to actually carry out the day's duties.

Demyx made his way to his kitchen and opened up the fridge, which was met with an eager grumble from his stomach. He figured he'd prepare a legitimate breakfast today, unlike the day before. Well… "brunch" actually, considering the time.

He sorted through some drawers, gathered some ingredients, and flicked on the stove. Nothing remedies a sorrowfully early day like french toast, after all.

However, before he could coat the first slice of bread in the egg wash, the doorbell rang from behind him. His eyebrow rose in confusion, unsure of just who would visit him right now. Perhaps it was a package waiting to be delivered… or Axel stopping by for a visit. The possibilities were endless, but the only way the blonde could find out the truth was to answer the door's call. Demyx halted his cooking, dried his hands off, and headed for the door.

This house was an elderly one, passed on from owner to owner for ages, making it untraceable. Due to this fact, his front door did not have peephole, nor any convenient windows he could gaze out of to see just who was at his door. It was a surprise, every time.

He clutched onto the doorknob, twisted, and pulled. The frosty air nipped at his bare skin, which was most of his body unfortunately. However, that didn't grab his attention, the short figure on his porch did instead. Zexion, huddled up in a heavy, grey trench coat, stood there with squinted eyes. It seemed as though he didn't have much of a tolerance for cold, at all...

"...I know full well you wish not to see me, and I share that testament as well..." His voice was hoarse, presumably from the frigidness. "However, it'd weigh down on my conscience if I didn't return this to you." His hand borrowed out from the safety of his pocket to pass Demyx a small, rectangular object. The screen of his cellphone reflected the rays of the afternoon sun. Demyx's eyes grew wide as he hurriedly grasped it in his hands.

"My phone...! I didn't even know it was gone. How did you—" The male flipped it around a few times in his palms, inspecting it to make sure it really was his.

"Know it was yours? I found it when I arrived at work this morning. It was lying on the floor, presumably dropped during the struggle with that burglar. My manager was not present at the store yesterday, and the man had no other belongings alongside the gun, according to the investigators. Process of elimination, my friend." Zexion, straightened his posture, proud at his correct deduction. Still, Demyx had unanswered questions.

"But then how—"

"Find your home? Easy, I simply called the first speed dial. When your mother did not pick up the phone, the man on the end of Dial 2 did." Zexion smiled, amused at his recollection. "I inquired as to where I could return this phone, and after receiving the necessary information, 'Axe' relayed something extra. He told me to tell you, and I quote: '...To get your fucking act together and get a rebound already. You're losing it.'"

Zexion tried to hide his grin, trying to save at least a little bit of dignity left for the blonde. Demyx brought a hand to his temples. _Jesus Christ, Axel..._

Thank goodness he picked up, at least. Speed dial 3 was still set up to call the infamous man known as _Xigbar_...

"Ehh... Sorry about that. Axe is a little... _blunt_, I guess..." Demyx attempted to ease his embarrassment with laughter, but his chuckle came out stiff and awkward. Both of the men, unaware of what to do in that situation, remained in their positions for quite a few lingering moments. Eye contact never made, and hands shuffling around unsure where to sit. That is, until the phone owner broke the deafening silence.

"Um, thanks for returning this. I wouldn't have known where to go searching for it... so, thanks." Accepting the sloppy thanks, the blue-haired man gave a nod. Even after yesterday's events, he was still remaining respectful. It was one of his personal philosophies. Still, even when trying to keep his composure, his body shivered like mad. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trench coat once again, and hunched over in misery as a small breeze carried over 20° F air, and drenched it over his body. Demyx stood in his doorway conflicted. However, his disdain for the worker was not enough to keep him from giving in to the other's woe. He stepped aside, and gestured inside his house.

"Wanna come inside?"

Zexion raised an eyebrow at the blonde. "...Just what exactly makes you think I'd want to do that?"

Demyx rolled his eyes, not wanting to deal with his stubbornness. "Oh, I dunno, maybe that fact that it's fuckin' freezing outside? Just come in for a little while, until the cold dies down. You could say it's my thanks for dropping off my phone, even when you didn't want to." He gave a grin, out of trying to be persuasive, but it carried a bit of genuine feelings along with it.

A few moments passed without movement. The worker was contemplating an answer, all the while being pelted in constant gusts of wind. Does his stubbornness _actually_ know no bounds?

Without a word, the man stepped forward. He made his way into the building, and instantly felt relief. The heater was on, circulating its warmth throughout the house. Rather expensive this time of year, but it was worth it according to the blonde.

Demyx shut the door behind them, and shuffled back to the kitchen, not far at all from where they were standing. It was adjacent to the living room, after all. Upon arriving there, he resumed his preparation of his meal.

The visitor didn't remove his coat or shoes, for his eyes were too busy pondering around the room. The mass amount of lively holiday decorations filled the room to the brim; strung up delicately throughout the space, no area untouched. The tree, filled with joyous lights and tinsel, was the focal point of the entire room, standing proudly above all the other artifacts. It was strange, really. From what he's gathered, Demyx didn't seem like the Christmas-cheer kind of guy. Little did Zexion know how wrong he was.

The blue-haired man spoke out in the open, so the other could still hear him from the different room. "Your house is quite... festive, to put it lightly. I assumed you weren't the one to get into the spirit all that much." However, the glittery wall begged to differ.

Demyx stood over the searing toast, grilling on the stove beneath him. He scoffed, because it sounded simply ridiculous to him. He'd always been cheerful, all his life. He couldn't recognize when he wasn't behaving as such. However, taking in the other's comment, he suddenly realized how his behavior could have seemed. It was as much of a surprise to Demyx as it was to Zexion. He took a deep breath, and responded: "...You don't know me at all. I'm usually cheerful. You just caught me at a bad time."

The other raised an eyebrow from the living room. Bad time? Right now? This is the time where you're supposedly the happiest. "Please forgive me when I find that hard to believe."

Demyx scowled. He didn't fucking know what he was going through, so he shouldn't be assuming shit like that. "It's the truth, I swear." He took another breath, and continued. "I'm having... personal problems with a guy I know..." His voice trailed off, but it was still audible from where the other was standing. Actually, Zexion had made his way silently to the entry way of the kitchen, no longer loitering in the living room. He stared at the man making his breakfast, mesmerized by the fluid movements.

"...People are dicks, to put it frankly. Get used to it." Blunt. Blunt and stubborn, as always.

The musician flicked his head around to glare at the other, unappreciative of the empathy-lacking response. Zexion, taken back by the action, reflected on it, and corrected himself. "...Sorry. I didn't mean for that comment to sound so rude. What I mean is... I wish I could help, I guess." Zexion turned his gaze away, peering at the floor instead. He stuffed his hands back in his pockets, feeling suddenly awkward in this situation. So much so, a very faint flush of pink swept across his cheeks and nose. Barely visible, but the blonde noticed. His eyes grew wide, but pivoted him vision back at the toast, not wanting to point attention to it. He figured what the other sad was just out of pity... that wouldn't help, even if he could. But it made him feel better. A little more whole, a little more warm. He too had a flash of pink grace his face, upon thinking about it.

The two nervous lovebirds stood there for ages without speaking. Finally, breaking the layer of silence, Demyx thanked to man for his words of sympathy. He offered him some french toast, out of desperation for him to stay. He made him feel better, even after the horrible confrontations between them in the past.

Zexion agreed.

Again, they talked. And talked. And laughed. Nervous as can be, but still enjoying the moment.

* * *

><p>Zexion lingered at the doorway, throwing his coat back on before leaving. Demyx was nearby, but scribbling on a piece of paper instead. Hurriedly, he jotted down a series of numbers, and rushed to hand the note to the blue-haired man before he left. Curious eyes peered the page, and flicked between it and Demyx.<p>

"My number. Figured we could exchange them...?" He left off his statement with an inquisitive tone. He tried to act casual, but his expression gave his eagerness away clearly.

Zexion stared at the other, but eventually consented. He ripped the paper in half, and stuffed the written part in his pocket. "May I have a pen?"

Demyx, enlightened, quickly grasped the pen he was using before. He handed it to the other with a gleeful spark in his eye.

Using the wall as a flat surface, Zexion neatly wrote down his number too. Finishing with a flick of the pen, underlining the whole thing, he smiled at his craftsmanship. He capped the marker, and handed both pieces to the blonde.

"Here you are. Consider it a compliment, I don't go handing out my cellphone number to just anyone." He let a small grin escape, and form on his lips. "Now, I really must be going."

The musician nodded. "Yes... I guess so. Uh, thanks for dropping my phone off, again. You really saved me there, Zex."

Zexion was on his way out of the house, but halted with eyes dilating at the nickname. That was... unexpected. The familiar blush flooded his cheeks. He couldn't read his feelings at all, on just how he felt about such thing... so instead, he decided to avoid it overall.

"...Don't call me that."

"Mm-hmm." Demyx saw the blush, and knew it was his ticket to keep calling him so. Grinning ear to ear in his signature smile, he waved as the other exited the property. "See ya, Zex!"

The figure disappeared around the corner, walking back to his apartment not too long of a trek from here. His head, visibly shaking from nickname being used yet again, wondering just what he'd gotten himself into.

Demyx shut and locked the door. His heart was warm, and no memories of a certain Xigbar clouded his brain. Instead, a certain song did. A holiday song, of course.

He bit his lips, having newfound inspiration to look up said song. He sprinted upstairs, and practically crashed into his desk, turning on his computer vigorously.

He draped on a blanket while waiting for the start up screen to appear.

Because baby, it's cold outside.

* * *

><p><strong>I may have lied before... this is about as short as the second chapter. Oops! It was a fun one to write, though :)<br>**

**Please help me by reviewing! The end of this fic is not written yet, and while I have it all planned out, and I can easily amend it given the right feedback! Tell me what you'd like to see~**


	5. 29th

The sound of ringing awoke Demyx, which was coming from the phone on his nightstand. His eyelids fluttered open, and lazily settled on the object to his side.

"Ugh..." He grunts as me moves, sloppily shuffling himself within reach of the phone. The screen practically blinded him, rendering him unable to read the caller ID. Still, he answered the phone, just in time before the caller was sent to voice-mail.

"...Hello?" His voice was groggy and scratchy. Surprised at it, he attempted to clear his throat to cover it up, but it was too late.

"Er... I apologize if I woke you up... I didn't foresee if you'd still be asleep." A smooth voice addressed the blonde, belonging to a certain worker. Demyx's eyebrows hitched in curiosity.

"Zexion? Didn't think you'd call me so soon... And uh, n—no, it's alright. I really should be getting up anyway..." Nervous laughter filled the room as he glanced over to his clock. He didn't even know what time it was.

7:05 am.

He stared in disbelief, and decided that he, in fact, should _not_ be up this fucking early. But he didn't confess that, of course.

"Oh good, that's wonderful. Now, there's a reason I ranged." He cleared his throat, and slowly continued. "I was wondering if you could do me a favor... You see, my manager couldn't make it to work today, only god knows what reason." You could hear the dissatisfaction in his tone. "This store can't operate with only one person. I was wondering... if you could come down and help?" His voice lowered at the last question. You could tell that he didn't expect a yes answer; that it was too far-fetched that this stranger would actually aid him.

Demyx sat in silence on the other end of the line. Work? Now? With him? They'd barely just fucking met... with horrible first impressions, no less. He let out an hesitant "Uhh...", without even meaning to. Zexion, hearing the unsureness, began to backtrack promptly.

"I— I mean, I'm not putting any expectations on you; I know this proposition is out of the blue. Normally, I'd call Luxord and demand him to come, but he isn't answering this time." He paused, and let out a breath. With a quiet voice, he confessed: "You were the first person I thought of to call... I don't exactly have the arsenal of friends you have, I guess you could say..."

A frown made it's way across Demyx's mouth. What he just said... whether he had actually realized the severity of it or not... it was heartbreaking. He felt a weight on his shoulders, now feeling as if he had an obligation to go, out of his own sympathy for the man. Zexion didn't mean to guilt trip the musician, but that was certainly what just happened. With a heavy heart, Demyx looked back at the clock. But it was _so god damn early..._

The hesitation killed the worker. Already stricken with guiltiness, the newfound layer of awkwardness just overwhelmed the man. He spoke with haste, suddenly changing his mind.

"You know what, forget about it. Sorry about this mess I've caused; I don't know what I was doing. I'll go now, just carry on with your day—"

"Stop. I'll go, don't worry 'bout it." While his tone seemed harsh, he just wanted to stop Zexion from having such self-destructive thoughts. He couldn't handle it, not after learning what a wonderful man he actually really is.

"You will? Are you sure?" He was surprised, you could hear it. His voice was hitched and just dripping with disbelief. Demyx, however, was certain. However, that didn't stop him from having a little fun, after all. A smirk graced his features beautifully.

"That depends on whether I make some bank out of it. Man's gotta eat!" He chuckled as he stretched out his body, lightening up the mood. For him, at least, because the worker on the other end was flustered even more.

"We— well, of course! I wouldn't expect one to give up their time without proper reimbursement. Why, that's just _craz_—"

"_Dude_, relax. I was kidding around. I'll be there in a sec, okay? Well, after I take a shower." He smiled, amused at Zexion momentary pureness. If only he was always like this.

"..Oh. That's great, either way. Thank you for this, I know it must be bothersome."

"Not at all." His tone was sweet. He just felt... happy, to put it simply, whenever he talked to the other. It really was an odd phenomenon.

With that, the blonde hung up. He mustered up his strength, and rose out of bed. He shuffled towards his closet, to pick out his outfit; something appropriate for work...

Before grabbing any articles though, he took another look at the phone still clutched in his hand. For a few moments, he was distracted— smiling peacefully at the caller ID, reading lovingly as "Zex".

* * *

><p>The car horn beeped as he pressed the stiff button on the key chain. Dressed head to toe in layers, the musician now trudged his way to his temporary job. It was snowing, though not widely. The environment was as blissfully peaceful as can be. However, the feelings that welled up within Demyx were quite the opposite. He was tense, and his chest was heavy. The nerves were tingling up and down his spine. His fingers couldn't stop fidgeting. He was anxious and nervous, all at the same time. Would he perform well enough? Would it be awkward between them? They'd only just met. This situation wasn't normal, after all. On that note, who the fuck works during this time of year, <em>right after<em> a burglary? This management guy must be fucking _crazy_.

He stopped his movements before he came close to the doors, making sure he was out of view from the windows. He shuffled his pockets for his special box. He knew Zexion detested it; he knew it was a horrible thing to do. But he just couldn't... live with all the stress that comes with life without it. It was like he had never quit at all. He was _still_ addicted; he was _still_ in deep, deep trouble.

He tugged out the lighter. He pulled out the cigarette. It wouldn't hurt to just be a _little_ bit late. It's not like he actually worked there, after all.

_Click. Click. Click._

He shielded the lit end from the snowflakes. The smoke surged through his body, eventually sending his muscles into a state of relaxation. The pros simply outweighed the cons. That's what he thought, until he noticed a figure standing not far from his side, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Eyes filled with disappointment stared directly into Demyx's conscience. Even with the smoke in his hand and in his body, he felt guilty.

"What did I tell you? What did I fucking say?" His voice rang out with shakiness, but still had elements of surety. "I can't control whether you heed my warnings, but at least _consider_ them, if you value your own life at all." Zexion's face contorted into one of defeat, and stomped off into the warmth and safety of the store.

The smoker was left speechless. He didn't even continue with his movements, he just stood there completely still, looking fixedly at the roll in his hand. Was it _worth_ it?

No.

He longed for another puff, and even started to do so, but ultimately forced himself to toss it on the ground. With a satisfying smash with his foot, he pulverized it into a grey and orange mess. Not giving it the time of day, he made way for the doors of the shop, and prepared himself to give the other a well-deserved apology. He took a deep breath, airing out the smoke from his lungs, and pushed the entrance open. A bell above the door ringed as he did so, causing the slate-haired man, who was tidying up at one of the shelve, to glance over.

Demyx's breath hitched, and after a couple moments, gave a pathetic-looking wave. The employee turned away, not acknowledging the blonde. This caused an even more heightened sense of guiltiness in the smoker. He had to say something, or this would never work out. Hesitantly, he spoke out loud, noting in the fact that no customers were in the store yet, warranting him free access to speaking loudly.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry about that. I know that you're right... as always, as it seems." He scratched the back of his head in nervousness, messing up his signature mullet-hawk just a tad. Still, he was answered with silence, as the other pivoted away from him and walked away, carrying a stack of DVDs. Demyx rolled his eyes, remembering his stubbornness. He swept around in front of the man, and gave him the most persuasive smile he could muster up.

"C'mon, Zex. Talk to me, man." He reached out and grasped the pile of movies from the other's hands, tugging them away from him. "I'm still here to help, aren't I?" He peered at him with puppy-dog eyes. Though it may be a bit strange for man of his age, he'd been perfecting them for _years_, and it was always his last resort for getting what he wanted. Always worked, too.

"...Alright."

_Bingo_.

The blonde beamed again, glad that he got the other talking. Forgiveness inbound, just as always.

"...Just work diligently, and I _may_ just forgive you."

_Fuck_.

* * *

><p>Much to his surprise, they had a steady amount of customers enter the store. While not all of them purchased anything, it still came at a shock to the musician. He thought that movie rental was long in the past, what with all the technology advancements now-a-days. Seems as though plenty are still living in the stone age.<p>

Also to his surprise, the two actually got along well from that point onward. The arguments they've had in the past were not brought up, nor did they start any new ones. They worked hard— _yes_, even Demyx— and when a down time occurred, they bonded even more. Demyx was often the jokester, and Zexion the audience. He found the other genuinely hilarious. Any other circumstance, Zexion'd be bored of such personality, even go so far as to find it immature in anyone else. But Demyx— he was special. While not exactly... _sophisticated_, he was definitely _not_ an idiot. Perhaps it was that that drew Zexion towards him.

When it came time for their hours to end, Zexion handed Demyx a few bills for his work. He peered at them with wide eyes.

"Oh, no, Zex! I was just kidding about that, really." He tried to push the money back onto the other, but he was having none of it.

"No, take it. It's thanks for helping, when you certainly didn't have to."

"Bu—"

"_Take it_, I said." While is voice was hard, his small chuckle after was soft. "I mean it."

Demyx looked at the pay. To him, it was worth more than it's actual monetary value. He carefully slipped it into his pants pocket, nodding in thanks to Zexion.

"Good. Now that that's settled, I really must be returning home, and give that drunkard a piece of my mind." As they exited and locked the store, Demyx almost felt pity for Luxord. One could only imagine the hell he's about to go through.

They waved, expressed salutations, and each went their separate ways. Zexion, to the sidewalk; Demyx, to his car. When the blonde realized this, he ceased movement, and felt that it was his duty to help the other out just a little bit more.

"_Hey!_ Where are you going?" He yelled out at the other. He wanted to confirm his suspicions.

"...Home." Zexion stared back in confusion. They had _just_ gone over this. Was he just forgetful, or was he wrong about him not being an idiot...?

"You don't have a car? You're just gonna... walk? That's gonna take forever." Demyx would know, they both go the same way, and it takes him twenty minutes _driving_. He could only imagine _walking_, in the snow no less. Still, he admired the man's determination.

"...Can't afford one." So it was true, he was going to walk the whole way home. Demyx sighed, and gestured towards his car.

"C'mon." Short and sweet, he offered a ride to Zexion. He unlocked the car, tugged the rusty door open, and once again gestured inside. "It may not be the most luxurious ride, but it sure beats walkin'!"

Zexion couldn't disagree with that.

Hesitantly, he trekked back over. He thanked Demyx, and sat down in the passenger's seat. The blonde was absolutely right; this thing really was a mess. The paint was peeling, the leather seats were tore apart, and so on. The more he analyzed, the more disturbing things popped out at him. Demyx plopped into the car with a "thump", and stuck the key into the ignition. After a few coughs, the car finally started up, though it wasn't the most pleasant-sounding thing in the world.

"Nice car..." His sarcastic voice and contorted face said otherwise. Demyx huffed at first, but then laughed.

"Yeah, well, it's not even mine. Don't blame _me_ for it." He was telling the truth after all.

"Who's is it then?" Zexion wondered honestly, but it was also just to make conversation.

"Axel's, the guy you talked to on the phone yesterday." Reminded of those prior events, Zexion snickered to himself. Ah yes, good times. "I... well, I lost my car recently, so I'm borrowing this piece of shit. Have no choice, really."

"There's public transportation."

Demyx gave a sickened look, conveying his disdain for the bus system. Zexion got the hint clearly, and nodded in return.

"...How'd you lose your original car in the first place?" Did he get a ticket? Did he get in an accident? Was Zexion actually in mortal danger right now, driving with this man? He wanted to know, but Demyx was not so eager to tell. He'd have to delve into the whole Xigbar issue, after all. That was something he'd like to hide from Zexion... for now, at least.

"...I'd rather not tell, heh." He let out a single laugh, attempting to ease up his answer, but the other juts scowled. It wasn't reassuring at all. "It— It's nothing bad, I swear, just personal!"

Oh. That's why. Zexion, though surprised, decided to back off. What's personal, was personal. He respected the blonde enough not to pry. The space was met with silence, and they only made idle chatter for the rest of the trip. Upon arriving near the neighborhood, Zexion gave him detailed directions. While he realized this before, when they were chatting yesterday, today only reinforced this fact. They really did not live far apart at all— possibly only a five minute drive. It was peculiar, that they never met before this week. It seemed as though they walked the same circles, but never once collided.

Zexion rose out of the vehicle, and gave a wave to Demyx. "Thank you... once again."

Demyx grinned, and waved the slate-haired man's statement away. "Don't mention it, man."

With that, the worker turned away, and climbed the steps to his apartment complex. It was a average-sized space, but it gave off a very old vibe. It was primarily outdoors, each apartment door subjected to the outside. The blocks did not have elevators, just stairs leading up to the upper floors. This gave away the fact that this place was built before handicapped-accessibility was required, much to his surprise. Also, while not exactly completely destroyed, it was certainly worn down. Demyx felt a slightest bit sorry for Zexion, because this place certainly screamed that it was cheap... not in a good way. And he had the _nerve_ to comment unsatisfactorily about Demyx's car, when he lived _here_...

He shook his head, and slowly put his foot to the pedal. Quiet whisperings of "goodnight" were heard by no one but himself.


End file.
